


The Longest Night of the Year

by cozythunderstorm



Series: Rook's Prologue [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fae & Fairies, First Kiss, Homebrew Content, Homebrew Setting, King's Road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21978871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozythunderstorm/pseuds/cozythunderstorm
Summary: Rook's story continues in the darkest part of winter.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Rook's Prologue [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582087
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a level 0 D&D game that my girlfriend and I played to explain how her character became a warlock.
> 
> Part 2 of 3

A slow but insistent snowfall drifted down on the village of Willamett’s End. The sod roofs were already heavy with thick snowy blankets, and each evergreen bough in the forest wore a mantle of white. Late afternoon was already darkening this close to the solstice, but bright firelight danced in the windows of the village’s single unnamed inn. Inside the common room, Rook stoked the blaze in the main fireplace, drawing back with a start as embers sparked off the burning logs.

She heard a chuckle behind her. “Careful,” Elias said from where he was restocking a shelf full of mugs. Rook hung the iron poker back on the wall and opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the front door of the inn opening with a flurry of snowflakes. Della from the orchard stomped in, dropping a barrel of cider at her feet before pushing the door shut.

“It’s snowing,” she announced to no one in particular, shaking white powder out of her short, grey hair. “Where do you want this, Elias?”

“Here, behind the bar. Dinner should be almost ready,” he added as the orcharder hoisted the barrel again. “Care to stay for some food?”

Della grunted as she set the cider down where Elias motioned. “Awh, I shouldn’t. Snow’s not going to let up till morning, by my guess.”

“Just a hot drink, then. Bridget?”

“Of course.” Rook smiled at Della and slipped back into the kitchen, where Galen was putting an egg wash on a tray of pies while stirring soup with his other hand. “Fresh cider’s here,” she said as she came in. “Just grabbing something for Della before she heads back.” 

Galen nodded. “Ale’s there,” he said, gesturing towards a cauldron that was steaming next to the kitchen hearth. “And these will be out in half a bell.” He swiped his brush over the last of the pies.

“Just an ale.” Rook grabbed a clean mug and a ladle from the pantry. As she filled it, she asked, “So what are we making for the festival this year?”

Galen considered this as he slid the tray of pies into his small oven and bolted it shut. “It’s been a good year for chestnuts,” he said. He looked at Rook, and waited.

“Chestnuts.” Rook thought for a moment, then her eyes brightened. “What if we grind them into a meal, and then coat and fry something in them?”

“A chestnut breading?” Galen chuckled. “Be a bit dry, I’d imagine. No, I think you’d want to roast them whole, chop them and crust them on grilled fish before pouring a sweet sauce over the whole thing.”

Rook’s mouth fell open. “Yes, that—that’s better. That’s a much better idea than what I would have said.”

The cook laughed. “Well, you’re still learning. Alright then, that’s what we’ll do. You’ll need to gather the chestnuts, though. Northeast woods I think should be good pickings.”

“I’ll do it first thing tomorrow,” Rook promised. Galen waved her off with a smile, and she carried the ale back out to where Elias and Della were talking.

“...hasn’t arrived yet, and only three days left till Midwinter,” Elias was saying. “Galen will be in a state if he can’t get any cinnamon before the festival.”

“Here you go.” Rook handed Della the mug of warm ale.

“Ah! Thank you, Bridget.” Della took a grateful sip. “How are you then? Staying out of trouble?”

“Doing my best,” Rook said with a smile. She turned to Elias. “Talking about the peddler?”

“I’m just worried Crain may have decided to skip us this year.” Elias shook his head. “Well, if it happens, we’ll get by.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Della took several long gulps of ale. “Ah, that's good. Well, I’d best be getting back before it gets any darker. Tell Galen I’m sorry for missing dinner, I’m sure it’ll be incredible.”

Rook and Elias bid her farewell, and Della left out into the snow. They had just returned to work when the door opened again and Della poked her head back inside. “I think the peddler’s just arrived,” she said. “I can see his cart coming up the road. Looks like he’s got two sellswords with him.”

“Oh!” Elias hurried out the door, Rook close behind him. Several other villagers were also stepping out of their homes as word spread, and a small crowd began to gather around the innyard as the cart rattled its way towards them. Pulled by a pair of shaggy horses, it had a flat, snow-laden cover and looked even older than the peddler himself. Rook recognized Crain huddling under several cloaks on the front bench, but walking through the snow beside the cart were two strangers; a smiling bearded man with long hair and a pair of daggers on his belt, dressed in dark leather clothing, and a much taller, scowling woman in heavy furs and carrying an ironwood quarterstaff.

Elias pushed through the crowd and called out a greeting to the peddler, who waved at him in return. “Stable Master Crain’s horses, Bridget?” he said, before going over to help the older man down. Rook began unhitching the horses from the cart as Crain and the two strangers followed Elias inside. A few villagers lingered to exchange greetings with the peddler, but it quickly became clear that Crain wouldn’t be opening his cart up tonight. By the time Rook had lead the horses around back to the stable, most everyone had gone home to make use of the last waning light before nightfall.

“You remember me, don’t you two?” Rook asked as she rubbed the horses down and threw an extra layer of straw into the stalls. The horses huffed in response, and Rook shook her head. “I don’t know, it’s been a busy year. Sometimes I wonder if I recognize myself.” It had been three seasons since Teisen, who everyone said was a witch, had given Rook a true name, and just over six months since Rook had met faeries in the woods on Midsummer’s Eve. She had done her best to go back to the rhythm of daily life in the village after that. She helped Elias, Maedran, and Galen around the inn most days, although she had spent much of autumn back on the farm, bringing in the harvest with her family. She pretended she was normal.

Those nights had been the hardest. Laying in the dark, body aching after a day in the fields, listening to her brothers snore around her, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. The feeling that she didn’t belong weighed on her shoulders like a wet cloak, and it always hung heavier at home. The inn was better, where Galen’s cooking lessons, where Elias’s soft encouragement, where even Maedran’s oddness helped her feel like she could fit in. Where Alyona wasn’t too far away.

She and Alyona had been spending much more time together since Midsummer’s Eve. At first Alyona only vaguely remembered the wild story of faeries and a missing heart Rook had told her while she was shaking off the remnants of Rusalka’s enchanted sleep. It had taken Rook a fortnight or two to work up the courage to tell her what really happened that night, but to Rook’s surprise and relief Alyona believed every word of it.

“You said your name was _Rook?_ ” Alyona had asked after hearing the tale. She pondered the nickname for a moment. “It suits you. I’m not sure why, but I think it suits you.” She shook her head, smiling. “Gods, I can’t believe you took a faerie deal like that.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Rook protested.

“Run back to the village and get help!” Alyona laughed.

Rook’s eyes widened, and her words died on her lips. She blinked a few times. “...Oh.”

Alyona laughed harder, her shoulders shaking as Rook blushed and stammered. When Alyona finally caught her breath, she wiped away a tear. “Well, thank you. For doing the brave and foolish thing. I suppose…” She looked up at Rook. “I suppose it saved my life. Thank you.”

“Oh—Of course.” Rook glanced away, feeling her cheeks grow even warmer.

Alyona continued to study her, her face now calm, thoughtful. “Close your eyes,” she said.

Rook raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told. She tried not to laugh when she felt the air from Alyona waving a hand in front of your face.

“You’re not peeking?”

“I’m not peeking.”

“Good.” There was a rustle of movement, and then Rook felt the lightest pressure of warm, soft lips upon hers. It was gone in an instant, and Rook’s eyes snapped open in time to see Alyona stepping back, her cheeks dark and eyes cast shyly downwards. She hooked a strand of her long hair behind one ear and glanced up at Rook. “Well, um...There’s your reward,” she said, putting on air of mock seriousness. “For rescuing the fair maiden from a faerie’s spell.”

Rook grinned like a fool, and gave a showy bow. The conversation moved on, but Rook had felt a small warmth on her lips for a few days after that.

By the time Rook finished feeding and stabling Crain’s horses, dusk was close to giving way to night. Her breath steamed during the short jaunt from the stable to the inn, and when she got back inside the kitchen her nose and ears burned. The tray of pies had finished baking and were cooling on the kitchen table, but Maedran had taken Galen’s position at the soup pot.

“Oh! Hello, Bridget.” The skinny man beamed at her from behind the round spectacles that always made him look like some kind of nervous bird. “Elias and Galen are talking with Crain. Will you bring some ale out for them? Galen asked me to stir the soup and I am not sure when I can stop.”

Rook chuckled and glanced in the pot. “I think he probably just meant the once, but I can ask him.”

“Could you? Excellent! I’ll keep stirring until you get back.”

Rook filled three mugs of warm ale and carried them out into the common room of the inn. Elias and Galen sat near the fireplace with Crain, the peddler’s stiff leg stretched out towards the hearth. The sellswords had a table to themselves, and a few tables from them several people from the village were poorly concealing their curiosity in the two strangers. Rook couldn’t help glancing their way as well, but had to turn her back on them as she reached the innkeepers’ table. Elias looked up as she approached and nodded his thanks.

“You know I almost didn’t come up this far,” Crain was saying as Rook handed out mugs. “You’re out of the way, you know that, and hired hands don’t come cheap—oh thank you Bridget, there’s a good girl—not cheap at all, but I said to myself, I said, ‘Crain, you know Galen over in Willamett’s End will never forgive you if you don’t bring him his spices by Midwinter, you know he wouldn’t, and besides, you know what a cook like him could do with those spices, yes you do, better they go to him than the King himself if he were still alive,’ that’s what I said. So I made sure I came by, even though it’s later than I like to come up Willamett’s Tread—and I’m sure you appreciate that, Elias, I’m sure you do, you _are_ out of the way, and the cold gets to my leg this late in the year, you know it does, and hired hands don’t come cheap, so I know you won’t mind that I’m asking a little more for my wares this usual, just a little, after all I almost didn’t come up this far—”

Elias and Galen exchanged worried glances at that, but Rook interrupted, “Why _did_ you hire sellswords, Crain?”

Crain sniffed and slurped his ale. “Roads are dangerous, Bridget, very dangerous, and I heard rumors that the King’s Road was even more dangerous this year, talk of bandits and brigands ready to waylay poor honest merchants like myself. But I said to myself, I said, ‘Crain, you have a duty, yes, a duty to brave the dangers of the wild roads and make sure that trade between honest folk continues in these lawless times, yes you do,’ and so I did the noble thing and hired some extra hands, even though they don’t come cheap, not cheap at all, and you _are_ out of the way, but—”

“Speaking of, why don’t you go see if they need anything,” Elias said. “Dinner should be almost ready, right Galen?” The cook nodded, and Crain started a rambling digression about which of Galen’s dishes he’d been most looking forward to.

“Of course.” Rook walked over to where the sellswords where warming their hands on mugs of their own. “Can I get you two anything?” she asked.

“Another ale!” The man in leathers said, raising his cup. He had a lazy, oily smile. “And food, if you have it. Walking up this blasted mountain famished me.”

“We have mushroom soup,” Rook replied, “but the pies are still cooling.”

“Bah!” The sellsword’s smile curdled into a sneer. “Might as well bring them out, considering how much of me froze today.”

“How many rooms do you have?” The tall woman asked, unconcerned with her companion’s complaints.

“Available?” Willamett’s End rarely got visitors in the winter, and all the rooms were empty save for the one Rook used when she spent a night at the inn. “Five right now, but we could—”

“We can share a room, Merra,” the bearded man grinned.

“But we won’t, Kal,” the woman shot back without a glance. “Three rooms for the merchant, myself, and the boor,” she told Rook, pulling out a small leather pouch and withdrawing several large, silver coins.

Rook’s eyes widened at seeing what was probably close to her entire year’s savings casually offered by the tall sellsword. “That—it’s alright, Crain usually settles up at the end of his stay. Elias and Maedran can tally you up when you’re ready to leave,” she stammered.

Merra shrugged and put her money away. “In that case, pie and more ale for the two of us.”

Rook nodded and hurried back to the kitchen, where she relieved Maedran at the soup pot and began serving out plates of pie. Elias and Galen appeared soon after, still wearing slightly worried expressions.

“Well, I’ve convinced Crain to stay through the festival. Maybe we’ll earn some of our coin back from him, at least.” Elias turned to Rook. “Are you heading home tonight, Bridget? It’s a bit late.”

Rook shook her head. “I don’t mind staying through Midwinter, if you could use the help around here.”

“We most certainly could. Here, I’ll help with these plates, and then you head on up and prepare the rooms.”

She and Elias carried plates and bowls out into the common room, with Maedren following up with fresh mugs while Galen began chopping persimmons for dessert. They had only just delivered the meals, however, when the door of the inn flew open. Cold wind and a burst of snowflakes swirled inside as Orna from Redwheel Farm stepped in. Her broad shoulders heaved as she gulped in air, her face set in a scowl of desperation and fear.

“Orna?” Rook was closest to the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Kaeli’s gone missing,” Orna panted. “I think she’s run off into the woods.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly a classic way to start an adventure. If you're not sure how to get PC's out of a tavern once they've met in one, have someone bust in and say their kid has run off/been kidnapped/turned into a bat and flew away.


	2. Chapter 2

The door of the inn stood open, snowflakes and frostbitten air blowing in from the purpling dusk outside. Rook and Elias rushed over to Orna, who leaned with one burly arm against the doorframe as she caught her breath. “What happened?” Elias demanded.

“I’m not sure.” Orna shook her head. “I only just got the story. Teron was teasing her something fierce, and she ran off north of the farm a few hours ago.”

“Teron,” Rook growled, her face darkening.

Elias spoke over her. “ _ Hours?  _ And she hasn’t come home?”

Orna’s face was grim. “We’re already combing the woods, but the snow is coming down fast.”

“We’ll help, too,” Rook said.

Elias nodded. “Galen and Maedran can keep an eye out here, in case she makes it back to the village. Bridget and I will be right behind you.” Orna smiled her thanks and headed back out into the twilight. Rook and Elias relayed the news to the other innkeepers while throwing on their coats. Galen stepped out immediately to spread word around the square, and Maedran lit two wood and paper lanterns for them to carry into the woods. On their way out the door, Elias turned to the two sellswords and asked, “Will you two help?”

Merra met his gaze. “Are you paying us?”

Elias let out a short, frustrated breath. “Sellswords. Come on, Bridget.”

Once they were outside, Elias turned to Rook. “You know the woods well enough to search by yourself?” When Rook nodded, he said, “Alright. I’m going to cut around the mill, just in case she made it that far. You should head north, across the pasture, but make sure you double back if you think you’re getting lost. We don’t want to lose you, too.”

“Good luck,” Rook said, and started across the snowy field that lay between the village center and the edge of the northern woods. The air was full of white, fluffy snowflakes, and as night fell they soon became all Rook could see. The forest’s edge came upon her suddenly, dark and still, but through the trees she could make out the faintest suggestion of other lantern lights in the trees. Without hesitating, Rook struck out into the woods.

For a while Rook could hear the voices of other searchers in the distance, and could even make out the shine of their lanterns in the gloaming. She angled away from them to widen the search, keeping as fast a pace as she could as she trudged through the thick snow that had piled up on the forest floor. Every few minutes she called Kaeli’s name, her breath steaming in the winter air. The cold began to gnaw at her exposed face, and despite her boots and winter socks the icy chill of walking through snow started to seep into her feet. Still she pressed on, until the trees seemed large and unfamiliar and her lantern grew brighter as the evening deepened.

She was close to admitting that she may be near to getting lost, and that it might be a good idea to turn around and follow her footprints back a ways, when she stepped forward and her foot plunged into an unexpectedly deep snowbank. Her whole body sank forward into the snow, swallowing her up to her armpits and knocking the breath from her lungs. The freezing cold pierced through her clothes like a thousand tiny knives, and her lantern flew from her hand and out of her grasp. The candle inside was immediately extinguished as it tumbled across the snow, plunging Rook into the grey-white gloom of the winter woods.

“Shit.” Rook tried to pull herself out, but her hands and arms sunk into the snow as well, unable to find any solid purchase. Twisting and flailing, she was eventually able to force her way deeper into the snowbank. With a great, heaving effort she half-crawled, half-swam her way to the surface of the snow, where she lay panting for a few moments. Rather than stand and send her whole weight punching down into the snow again, she was forced to roll away from the bank and up to the trunk of a tree, where she was finally able to get to her feet.

It almost felt colder out of the snow. Her clothes were covered in matted white powder, some of which was melting into her clothes as it warmed against her body. The breeze, which she had barely noticed before, cut through her like an icy blade as she stood. Trembling, Rook cautiously retrieved her lantern and squatted down next to the tree as she tried to relight it. It took a few tries with the flint and quartz she thankfully had the foresight to bring with her, but she got the candle to catch. 

As she raised the lantern to get her bearings, she saw a large shadow in the woods that she hadn’t noticed before she fell into the snow. It looked like a short wall cutting through the trees. Frowning, she looked back the way she had come. The ruined snowbank lay between her and her footsteps back to town. Her teeth started chattering while she was relighting her lantern, and she had no desire to risk falling in again. Watching her step, Rook eased slowly towards the shadow in the trees.

It  _ was _ a wall. Irregular, crumbling, and covered in snow, made of lichenous grey stones crammed together and cemented by age. It rose almost to Rook’s shoulder in places, but there were plenty of gaps that cut all the way down to the earth. Rook stepped through one of them to discover three more crumbling walls, all together forming the ancient suggestion of a building’s foundations. As her flickering lantern lit up the ruin she stopped short, because leaning against one of the walls was a figure.

Most of her was swallowed up by a dark red cloak that stood out against the snow like spilt blood. The figure’s hood shrouded her face in shadow, but as she looked up, Rook could see her eyes through the dark. They burned like coals, her irises glowing and shifting like hot embers in a fire. Those eyes looked Rook up and down before meeting her gaze, and for a moment Rook forgot the biting cold that was seeping through her. They stood there looking at each other, neither moving, for a long moment. Then the figure spoke, and her voice reminded Rook of the deep red wine Elias had let her try last Harvesttide—all at once bitter and rich, smooth but biting, delicate but dark.

“Whose luck has lead you to find me, human girl? It cannot be your own.”

Rook was momentarily speechless under the woman’s burning gaze. “I—what?” Then she blinked, and she remembered why she was here. The words came out in a rush. “I’m sorry, but have you seen a young girl out here? She’s from Willamett’s End, about ten years old—”

The woman pushed herself off the wall she had been leaning against and took a few steps forward. “Who are you?” she asked, cutting Rook off. “What is your name?”

Rook’s breath caught in her throat. “Um...Rook?”

From beneath her hood Rook saw the shadow of the woman’s lips twitch, as if she could tell Rook was not telling the truth. But she said nothing. Rook felt herself blush, and pushed back the strange rush of embarrassment by saying, “Well, who are you, then?”

The woman took another step closer. “Who indeed?” Her eyes continued to burn with their own light, and her lips curled in a half-smile. “Perhaps I am a great finder of lost things. Like foolish girls, wandering much too far from home and stumbling into terrible danger.”

Rook froze, holding her breath as the woman stopped only a few steps away. They stared at each other, neither moving as the snow came down around them. Rook found herself almost mesmerized by the shimmering, fiery glow of the woman’s eyes, even as a coil of fear began to twist in her stomach. Then the woman turned and raised a hand from beneath her cloak, pointing out into the forest.

“Follow that path until you reach an earthen ledge. Turn left and follow the rock shelf; it will lead you to a stream. Cross it—the ice will not break. Climb the left bank upstream until you reach the waterfall.” Her burning gaze returned to Rook. “Do not enter the cave behind the falls, despite anything you hear.”

Rook’s eyes widened as she tried to take it all in. “Th–thank you,” she began. “I—”

“Make haste!” the woman said, her voice sharp. “The child’s fate is nearly sealed.”

“Right!” Rook started and turned in the direction the woman had pointed. “Thank you!” she called as she sprinted into the woods, and left the cloaked silhouette behind.

Rook followed the woman in red’s directions, sprinting through the forest as quickly as her steaming, labored breath would let her. Her lantern shook in her hand as she ran through the snow, sending the candlelight dancing wildly around the twilit trees. The vague path through the trees she was following ended abruptly at a chest-high ledge, just as the woman said it would. Rook turned left and ran along the earthen wall until she heard the rush of running water ahead. The stream had completely frozen over, but frigid water still flowed beneath a treacherous layer of ice. Rook didn’t pause for a moment. She bounded across the stream in three heavy steps and scrambled up the snowy bank on the opposite side. Turning upstream, she ran.

The climb up the side of the stream was brutal. Rook had to scramble over snow-covered boulders and logs, around trees with great tangles of roots reaching down through snowdrifts to the stream. Sweat chilled and froze under Rook’s snow-crusted clothes as she ran. After what felt like hours the ice on the surface of the stream began to grow thinner, until it was only clinging to the sides of each bank. Rook heard the roar of a waterfall through the trees ahead, along with something else—the sound of music on the wind.

Rook broke through a line of trees and stumbled to a halt in front of a large, dark pool. A cascade of rushing water plummeted from a steep cliff high above, and the mournful sound of a hardanger fiddle came from somewhere behind the falls. A young girl wrapped in a snow-covered coat stood at the edge of the pool, her mouth agape.

“Kaeli!” Rook shouted, just as the girl plunged one child’s boot into the icy water. Dropping the lantern, Rook sprinted forward and scooped Kaeli up in her arms. The girl struggled, squirming out of Rook’s grasp and wading into the shallows again. Rook looped an arm around Kaeli's midsection and turned her head towards the waterfall, screaming, “Nøkken, stop!”

The melody faltered for only a moment, but that was all Rook needed. She heaved with all her might and dragged Kaeli away from the pool. The fiddle tune started again, but Rook lifted Kaeli fully off the ground, her muscles screaming at her as she stumbled down a thin path with child-sized footprints still marring the snow. Kaeli reached for the waterfall behind them, a dreamlike expression on her face, and the song began to build in intensity. Rook could feel it tugging at her ears, and more than once she caught herself almost turning back to look behind her. Each time she snapped her head forcefully back towards the woods, until finally she had walked far enough to risk a glance behind.

She saw a familiar figure standing at the foot of the waterfall, playing wildly on his fiddle. The golden hair and fair features of the Nøkken were the same as Rook remembered from Midsummer’s Eve, but the expression of uncontrolled rage on his face exceeded anything Rook had seen from him before. When their eyes met, recognition bloomed in the Nøkken’s face, quickly replaced with the most blood-boiling hatred Rook had ever seen. His fiddling quickened, and Rook had to force herself to look away and drag Kaeli further into the woods.

The Nøkken didn’t follow. With the waterfall out of sight Kaeli quieted, and Rook forced her burning, freezing, stumbling body forward until the sound of the hardanger fiddle faded away and the woods were silent once more. Only then did she dare set Kaeli down and rest for a few moments against the trunk of a tree. She didn’t know where her lantern was. Kaeli blinked up at her, confused. Her boots were wet, and she was shivering.

Rook forced herself to stand up. “Come on, Kaeli,” she said. “Let’s get you home.” Taking Kaeli’s hand, Rook lead her through the woods as the girl slowly seemed to wake up from a dream.

Night well and truly fell as they walked. The cold pressed in hungrily around them, and Rook paused to make a makeshift pair of dry socks for Kaeli out of Rook’s gloves. With no such replacements for herself, Rook began shaking violently, and her footsteps grew uneven and staggered. She almost fell to her knees when she saw the light of a candle lantern in the distant trees. She called out hoarsely, and heard a voice respond. Within moments, Sindri from Redwheel Farm and Jehan the apothecary came hurrying towards them, relief and joy on their faces.

“You found her!”

“Where was she? Are you two alright?”

“They’re both freezing. Here, carry Kaeli. Bridget, can you walk? We’re not far from Redwheel.”

Rook nodded, too weak for words, and followed them out of the woods and down to Redwheel Farm. Orna came running out of the farmhouse as they approached and pulled Kaeli into a tight embrace, tears running down her face. “Thank you,” she said, raising her head to look at Rook.

Despite her exhaustion, Rook managed a smile. “Of course,” she croaked.

Rook was pulled inside by Orna and Sindri, stripped of her wet clothes, and bundled up in a large blanket by the fire. There, she was given hot cider to drink, along with buttered bread and hot soup. When Rook weakly protested that she was supposed to meet Elias back at the inn, Orna made it clear that she would tie Rook down before she let her step back out into the cold tonight. Rook asked them to at least send word to that she was alright, and Jehan assured her that he would let the innkeepers know what had happened.

Fed and dry and buried in blankets, wearing a shirt and drawers borrowed from one of Kaeli’s older brothers while her own clothes steamed on the hearth, it wasn’t long before Rook was drifting to sleep in front of the crackling fireplace. As her eyelids drooped she gazed into the shifting embers of the fire, smoldering just like the eyes of the red-cloaked woman out in the woods.


	3. Chapter 3

Rook awoke to warm ashes and the sounds of a new day’s work beginning at Redwheel Farm. As she blinked herself awake, the scent of breakfast wafting in from the farmhouse kitchen reminded her stomach that she had skipped dinner to go running off into the woods last night. Her clothes were dry on the hearth next to her, and she gratefully stripped out of her borrowed clothing to start putting them on.

“Augh!” A shout of surprise came from behind her as she pulled on her binder, and she turned around to see Teron recoiling back into the doorway he had just walked through. “What the shit, Bridget?” he asked, blocking the sight of her with his hands.

“Oh grow up, Teron. My clothes got soaked last night.” Rook pulled on her trousers and started doing up the laces. “You’re welcome for that, by the way,” she added.

Teron looked her up and down with a horrified expression. He let out a strangled sound of disbelief and disgust before turning around and storming away from her.

“Wha—I meant for saving your sister after you—not for a glimpse of—argh!” Rook snorted in frustration. She finished getting dressed and followed her nose to the kitchen.

Orna was there, and greeted her with a tearful smile and a bone-crushing hug. “Kaeli’s doing alright,” she said after serving Rook a large bowl of porridge with pieces of honeycomb and toasted acorns. “Thanks to you.”

Rook smiled self-consciously. “I mean, we were all looking. I just got lucky.”

“That’s some luck!” Sindri stepped into the kitchen, a pail of milk in one hand. “And we’re all grateful to you for having it.”

“Quite right.” Orna nodded. “Now that you’re up, I’m going to check on Kaeli again, I’m sure she’ll want to thank you before you go.”

As it turned out, nearly everyone at Redwheel farm wanted to thank Rook for what she did, and it was solidly mid-morning before Rook got her feet back on the path down to the village. She did see Kaeli before she left, who was wrapped up in even more blankets than Rook had been last night. She thanked Rook for helping her home, but the two of them shared a look that told Rook Kaeli remembered a good deal about what had happened with the Nøkken, and that she hadn’t exactly told her mothers all the details.

The sun was shining brightly off the fresh snow when Rook got back to Willamett’s End. She walked right back to the inn, and hadn’t even stomped the snow off her boots before she was overwhelmed by all three innkeepers demanding to know that she was well and unhurt.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” she said, pushing them back long enough to get out of her coat. “I fell into a snowbank, but...but I found Kaeli. Orna made me sleep at Redwheel last night.”

“Yes, Jehan told us, but…” Elias shook his head. “Sit down, we’ll get you some food. I think you deserve the day off today.”

“But the festival—”

“Oh, we’ll work you plenty tomorrow,” Galen said. “But we can get by without you for one day.”

Elias nodded. “And besides, you should go home and check in with your family. I’m sure it won’t take too long for the story to reach your parents.”

Rook had half a mind to argue, but Elias was right. “Alright,” she sighed. Elias smiled in approval, and he and Galen went back to the kitchen while Maedran and Rook sat down by the fire.

“So what happened last night?” the thin man asked, wiping his spectacles off with a handkerchief and glancing at her from across the table.

Rook hesitated. Aside from Alyona, she hadn’t told anyone what had happened on Midsummer’s Eve. She hadn’t had much hope of anyone believing her. But despite always having his head in a book or up in the clouds, she knew Maedran was a deeply insightful person. What was more, he, like Rook, had a true name. Rook didn’t know exactly what that meant for Maedran, why he had been given one or if it had ever led him to experience anything as strange or wondrous as Rook had. But maybe he would know something useful? Maybe it was worth a try.

“Well, when I found Kaeli,” she began, her voice low although they were the only ones in the common room, “A...a faerie was trying to pull her into a pool in the forest.” 

Maedran’s eyebrows went up. “Go on."

Rook quickly described her confrontation with the Nøkken from the night before, starting with when she arrived at his waterfall. Maedran listened intently, without interrupting, and when she had finished he said, “Well, that does sound serious. Have you spoken with Tala or Teisen about this?”

“I…” Rook  _ had _ approached the village priestess once since Midsummer, to ask if she knew of any old church ruins in the woods north of the village. Tala had immediately demanded to know why Rook was asking, with a sharp shrewdness that had startled Rook. She made up a quick story of Teron leading her and Alyona into the woods in search of some, but that they hadn’t managed to find anything after a day of searching. This seemed to satisfy the older woman, who admitted to also having heard stories of an old temple from a forgotten age lost somewhere in the mountains around Willamett’s End. She then made Rook promise never to go looking for them again, and that was the end of any conversation with the priestess on the matter. As for Teisen, she lived on the edge of the woods with the village huntress, and was hardly even seen for festivals. Rook preferred not to bother her.

Maedran took her silence as answer enough, and gave her an understanding smile. “I believe dangerous spirits, fey or foul, might be their area of expertise. You may wish to consider telling one of them what happened.”

Rook frowned, but just then Elias and Galen arrived with lunch for the four of them, and she was able to put off making a decision on the matter. She sat and listened to the three of them talk about Midwinter preparations as she ate, and slowly her life started to feel a little more normal.

The innkeepers had taken the dishes back to the scullery the inn door opened, and Alyona stepped inside. Her face was chapped from the cold despite her thick coat and scarf, but her eyes were bright as she saw Rook and hurried across the room.

“What did you do?” she asked, grinning as she sat down next to Rook. “Everyone’s talking, but nobody’s saying anything. What happened?”

“I…” Rook glanced across the bar at Medran, who winked. “I’ll tell you the whole story, I promise, but the boys are giving me the day off to go check in at home. What are you doing today?”

“Nothing I can’t put off,” Alyona said, undeterred. “I’ll walk with you.”

Rook couldn’t help but smile. “Great.” She threw on her coat, waved goodbye to the innkeepers, and the two of them stepped out into the snow. In the innyard outside, Crain had opened up his peddler’s cart and several people were looking through the assortment of supplies, items, and trinkets he was selling. Alyona slipped her hands around Rook’s arm, and Rook felt herself blush a little as they walked past what suddenly felt like half the village together. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Have you looked at Crain’s cart yet?” Rook asked, completely matter-of-factly and not at all to cover the rising warmth in her chest.

Alyona sniffed. “Yes, but I didn’t find what I was looking for. It’s a mess in there, as usual.”

“Oh?” Rook looked down at her. “What were you hoping to find?”

“A hairbrush.” Alyona met Rook’s gaze with a curious expression. “Why?”

Rook shrugged, doing her best to keep her face neutral. “Just wondering.”

Together they walked up the snow-packed road out towards Rook’s family farm. Once they were past the village proper and skirting Della’s orchard, Rook told Alyona how she had saved Kaeli from the Nøkken. She left out her encounter with the woman in the ruins, however. Rook knew she wasn’t human—her eyes made that abundantly clear—but she didn’t seem like one of the Fair Folk, as far as Rook could tell. She was helpful, and had given her aid freely when Rook asked. In any case, she was a mystery Rook didn’t need to burden Alyona with, especially with the worrying prospect of the Nøkken weighing on both their minds.

“You’re certain he recognized you?” Alyona asked.

Rook let out a long breath. “Certain. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so furious.”

“He can’t come after you though, right? He can’t leave his pool?”

“I’m not sure. Rusalka could only go wandering at Midsummer, but I don’t think Nøkken is quite the same as Rusalka.”

Alyona looked worried. “Maybe you should sleep with a horseshoe under your pillow from now on.”

“Maedran thinks I should talk to the priestess about it.”

“That...might be a good idea, actually.” 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the air between them filled with the crunching of snow and the trilling of winter birds. After a while Alyona said, “Although, even if Tala does know how to defend you against the faeries, there’s no way she can help you against snowball attacks.”

“What?”

Alyona didn’t even bother making a snowball. She just dipped her mittens into the snow and sent a spray of cold powder up into Rook’s face.

“Ack! Hey!” Rook laughed, stumbling back and wiping the snow off her face. Alyona laughed. Rook dipped a hand down and tossed some snow her way as well, but it her aim was bad. Alyona laughed harder, dancing back before scooping a snowball into her hands and throwing it. Still off-balance, Rook took the snowball squarely in the chest.

“Alright, then, if you’re going to get serious!” Lunging forward, Rook tackled Alyona into the snow. The two of them went down laughing.

They were wet and cold with melted snow by the time they made it to Splitbrook Farm. Rook’s aunt Muriel hung their coats up to dry and forced them into the kitchen for some hot soup and bread. They spent a loud, bustling hour there as Rook’s many brothers and cousins came through to eat, say hello, and press her for the story of how she had found Kaeli. She tried to explain that Kaeli had just gotten lost and that it was only luck that Rook found her instead of someone else, but she could hardly get half the words out before another family member was greeting her, mussing her hair, or asking her to quit that quiet, boring inn work and come back to the farm where the fun was.

“Go talk to your mother before you leave,” Muriel said when Rook insisted that she needed to get back to the village today. “She’s out in the pasture. You know she’d hate to have missed you.”

“I will,” Rook promised. She glanced at Alyona, who for an only child had done a remarkable job enduring the storm of relatives and farmwork she had found herself in. “Follow me,” she said, and led Alyona out of the house. They wandered around to the barn, where the family plow horse was stolidly eating hay and keeping one eye on the world outside. It was considerably quieter than the farmhouse had been.

“So your family’s...nice,” Alyona said.

Rook sighed. “I’m sorry, they’re a lot. Hey, Clover.” She patted the horse on the neck, who nickered and continued to eat.

Alyona shook her head. “I was just surprised! You’re so reserved and thoughtful, I guess I thought your brothers would be…” She trailed off, and shrugged. “I only see them all together on festival days, and practically the whole village is there, too.”

“Lucky. Alright, let’s find my mom and then we can head back.” Alyona nodded and lead the way out of the barn. As they walked out, Rook snatched an old, bent horseshoe from a table and slipped it into her pocket.

They found Rook’s mother cutting branches from spruce trees at the edge of the farm’s small pasture. The older woman pulled Rook into a tight embrace before looking her over. “Are you feeling alright? There’s talk that you nearly froze to death last night!” She felt the temperature of Rook’s cheeks.

“I’m alright, I’m fine.” Rook waved away her mother’s concerns, but did it with a smile. “Mom, you know Alyona, right? The miller’s daughter?” Alyona waved.

"Of course, of course." Rook’s mother smiled. “Are you sleeping here tonight, Bridget?” she asked Rook. “Or are you heading back to town?”

“I should sleep at the inn tonight. They’ll need all the help they can get preparing for the festival, and I promised Galen I’d go gather chestnuts tomorrow.”

Disappointment touched her mother’s face, but she nodded. “I understand. I miss you, though. Farm’s not the same without you.” She gave Rook another hug. “Take care, bug.”

“I will, Mom.”

Her mother sniffed and nodded, and let Rook go. “Come back soon, though?” She smiled at Alyona. “And feel free to bring your...friend with you. I’m sure everyone would love to get to know her better.”

Alyona blushed at the emphasis Rook’s mother put on the word  _ friend _ , but thanked her for the invitation.

By the time Rook and Alyona made it back to the village it was almost dark. “I should get back home,” Alyona said as they walked through the town square. “I’ll have chores to catch up on. But,” she gave Rook a warm smile, “I’m glad we took the day off.”

Rook grinned back at her. “Oh! Before I forget.” She pulled the horseshoe out of her pocket and handed it to Alyona. “For you to put under your pillow.”

Alyona took it with a chuckle, but looked a little worried. “Are you sure you won’t need it more?”

Rook shook her head. “I’ll go talk to Tala now. Promise,” she said when Alyona raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I’d feel better knowing you had it.”

“Well, if it will make you feel better.” Alyona smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

They said goodnight, and Alyona continued up the path towards the mill. Rook watched her go, then turned her feet away from the welcoming lights of the inn, where Crain had already shut up his cart and smoke was rising from the chimneys. Rook sighed, and reluctantly started walking the other direction towards the village shrine. 


	4. Chapter 4

Rook followed the path south of the village towards Tala’s cottage, a squat, neat little building just down the hill from the shrine. The sun had set, and a cold wind was blowing down the valley.

Rook paused by the outskirts of the shrine. Three tall, dark stones looked down on her, each carved with images of the gods—the Earthwarden, the Blackbow Huntress, the Keeper of the Last Home, the Luck Thief. At the base of each stone, several lines of glyphs that Rook couldn’t read disappeared beneath the snow.

“Well…wish me luck, I guess,” she said, and walked down to the priestess’s home. When she got there, however, Tala’s windows were dark, and no smoke was coming from the chimney. She could hear the sound of someone chopping wood coming from the other side of the cottage, and when she walked around she found Rowan cutting firewood and stacking it in a pile next to Tala’s cottage. A small sled with a few heavy looking logs sat nearby. Rowan waved as she finished up, then grabbed the ropes to her sled and joined Rook by cottage the door.

“Hey Rowan,” Rook said. “Is Tala around? I need to talk with her.”

Rowan shook her head. “Emri up at Birchbark Farm was having some trouble with her new babe, so Tala and Jehan went up there for the night. I’m just getting this ready for when she comes back.”

“Dammit.” Rook sighed.

“I’m heading back to the village, you want to walk with me?” Rook nodded, and they started back up the path, Rowan dragging her sled behind her. “What did you want to talk to Tala about?”

Rook paused. She wasn’t particularly close with Rowan—the woodcutter had nearly ten years on her—but Rowan and her sister spent more time in the woods than anyone in the village besides the huntress. She decided to risk getting laughed at, and asked, “Have you ever seen any of the Fair Folk in the woods?”

Rowan considered this. “Never directly, but sometimes—sometimes I’m looking at a tree to cut, and I get the feeling that I really  _ shouldn’t _ , you know? And I can’t say for sure, but...well, sometimes I think I see a woman out of the corner of my eye, watching me. But whenever I turn to look, it’s just a tree.”

Rook remembered Aspen, the dryad she had met last summer, and nodded. “I...I’ve seen one of them,” she said quietly.

Rowan raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t laugh. “I understand why you’d want to talk to Tala about that.” She thought for a few moments. “I’m not sure I have much advice for you—I do know that once you start seeing faeries, you typically keep seeing ‘em for a while. So keep your wits about you. And it can’t hurt to carry some iron about.” She patted her carpenter's axe fondly. “It’s solid. Real. Keeps you grounded. But don’t worry too much—You’re a clever girl, I think you’ll be able to manage whatever the woods can throw at you.”

Rook smiled, genuinely pleased to hear the older woman say that.

“Just remember,” Rowan said. “Be careful making any bargains or accepting anything from them. There’s no luck in faerie gifts.”

“...Right.” Rook was glad the deepening gloom hid her face.

When they reached the village Rowan clapped her cheerfully on the shoulder before heading back to her home. Feeling much better about putting the Nøkken out of her mind for now, Rook walked back to the inn and ate dinner with the three innkeepers. True to their word, they didn’t even ask Rook for help with the dishes, and before long she had climbed up the stairs to her room, collapsed into bed, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Rook didn’t have time to go hunting for chestnuts the next day.

Although most of the festival preparation would take place on the day of the longest night of the year, Galen was already working on pie crusts, bread dough, and several sauces to lighten the amount of cooking he’d need to do tomorrow. Throughout the day he had Rook picking rosemary and elderberries from the garden, kneading dough, running to the baker’s and back, and watching simmering pots while he turned to any number of different tasks that required his attention. She had her usual chores as well, scrubbing dishes and tables, chopping firewood, clearing ash out of the fireplaces. She had to clean the rooms for Crain and the sellswords too, deliver fresh water, empty chamber pots, and clean linens. The peddler and his guards spent the day outside, selling odds and ends to anyone who would stop by. Rook saw them as she went to clean out the stables, feed and water Crain’s horses, and walk them around the yard to exercise them.

Most households stocked up on salt and spices whenever Crain stopped by, but beyond that there was little guessing what the peddler would show up with. Today he was showing off some dyes, a few ribbons, a good deal of buttons, a couple of inkbricks, a stack of rough paper, slowburn sticks, some oils and scented extracts, needles and shears, and some fishing line. She knew he had already sold two bottles of southern wine to the innkeepers, as well as an iron teapot. Rook also knew that behind the nicely laid-out items Crain’s cart was a mess, and there was a chance she could find something unique if she got the chance to look around in the back.

She had just finished putting the horses back in the stable when Merra, the sellsword, left her post by the cart and wandered over to her. She was holding the ironwood quarterstaff she had walked into town with, as well as a shorter walking stick that Rook didn’t recognize.

“Tavern girl! Your village is dull,” Merra called out. She tossed the stick at Rook, who caught in in surprise. “Can you fight? Spar with me.”

“Merra, stop bullying the yokels,” Kal shouted from the cart. 

Rook glared at him, and squared up in front of Merra. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll fight you.” 

Merra grinned and jerked her head towards the open space of the innyard, where the snow had mostly been trampled down by the horses. She walked out into the center of the space and took up a wide stance with the staff held low in both hands. Rook followed, doing her best to mirror her.

They were still for several moments, watching each other. Then Merra moved, her staff thrusting out towards Rook in a blur of motion. Rook shouted in surprise and swung her stick to block it. The wood jumped at the impact, stinging her hands as she stopped the blow. Merra’s staff swung out and around, swiping up before coming down hard from above. Rook swung her stick around, meeting Merra’s staff with a loud  _ clack _ . Merra twisted her hands, and the end of her staff jutted out and hit Rook in the middle of her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.

“Oof!” Rook stumbled back a few steps, but steadied herself and swung her stick with all of her might. The blow hit home, landing with a meaty thud against Merra’s side.

“Ah!” The sellsword winced and hopped back from the blow. “You’re stronger than you look, tavern girl,” she said, rubbing her ribcage. “And not so bad at this.”

“I grew up with a lot of brothers,” Rook said, and pressed the attack, pushing Merra back as she swung her stick like a sword. Merra crouched and brought her staff up to block one of Rook’s blows, then twisted and pushed Rook’s guard wide open. Thrusting her staff down into the snow, Merra hooked one end behind Rook’s calf and swept her off her feet. 

Rook went down hard on her back, the walking stick flying out of her grasp as the world spun around her. The cold beneath her was its own shock. When she got her breath back, she laughed.

Merra walked over and helped Rook to her feet. “Well done!” she said, sounding surprised. “I enjoyed myself. Let me buy you a drink, as thanks.” Rook let Merra guide her now aching body inside, and she gladly ate the meat pie and mug of ale the sellsword ordered for her.

When Rook took the dishes back to the scullery, Elias stopped her and asked if she was alright. “I’m fine,” Rook assured him. “She’s nicer than she seems.”

Elias’s eyebrows went up. “She wouldn’t go searching for a girl lost in the woods unless there was a promise of coin offered,” he reminded her.

“Oh. Right.” Rook’s face fell a little, and Elias squeezed her shoulder before moving on.

When Rook finished her chores, she filled up a mug with hot cider and brought it out to where Crain was sitting at his cart. The afternoon was waning, and both the sellswords were either eating inside or up in their rooms. The crowd around the cart had also dispersed for now, leaving Crain and Rook alone for a moment. He started when she approached, but accepted the steaming drink gratefully.

“Thank you, Bridget,” he said. “You’re a sweet girl, you really are. You know how my knee gets in the winter, I’m sure you do, and Della’s cider always chases away the chill, doesn’t it? I always like to come up here for that reason, you know I do, even though you’re out of the way, you’re all so kind to an old man. That’s why I decided to stay for Midwinter, too. I told myself, I said, ‘Crain, you might as well stay for the festival, you know there’s no better place to spend Midwinter Night than Willamett’s End, Elias and his husbands keep the best inn on this side of the King’s Road, not to mention Della’s cider.’ So I thought I’d stay, although you know how my knee gets in winter, I’m sure you do—”

“Crain,” Rook said, “Do you mind if I look around in the back of your cart? I’m looking for something special.”

“What? Oh, yes, of course Bridget, you’re such a sweet girl, you really are. Just bring me what you find and we’ll get you sorted, alright? I’ll just sit here with my cider. I’ve always loved Della’s cider, it always chases away the chill, doesn’t it?”

Rook smiled and nodded, then went around to the back of the cart and started digging. It wasn’t long before she had collected a handful of treasures; a ribbon that matched Alyona’s eyes, an old razor in a worn leather sheath, a red scarf she thought would go well with her coat, and a deck of cards. The sun was beginning to set and the light was fading quickly, but Rook kept looking until, finally, she spotted a small hairbrush in the mess. The wood was dark and smooth, and it still held a healthy bush of boar hair. Turning it over in her hands, Rook’s breath caught. Lightly carved into the back of the brush was a simple, stylized outline of a rose.

“Perfect,” she breathed, and scrambled out of the cart to show Crain. After eyeing the five items over, he asked for three silver pieces for the lot of them. It was close to half Rook’s savings from the last year, but she paid it happily before helping Crain close up his cart and come back inside for dinner.

The last thing she did before she went to bed that night was to clean the old razor and take it to Galen’s kitchen whetstone. It didn’t take long before she had worked an edge she thought would be sharp enough for what she had in mind. She was still sore from her sparring session with Merra, though, so she went up to her room early after cleaning the dinner dishes. Tomorrow night, the longest night of the year, most of the village would be staying up all night to see the sun rise on a new year. Tonight, Rook was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

Rook awoke on the last and shortest day of the year to the sound of people already working in the inn below. Pulling herself out of bed, she threw on her clothes and washed her face in the basin before stumbling downstairs. The kitchen was a hubbub of activity, with Galen and Elias preparing dishes while various villagers came through with crates and barrels of raw food. Rook stuffed a quick breakfast into her mouth, and set to work.

She tried to do her usual chores quickly, but it wasn’t long before she was roped into helping each of the three innkeepers in turn. Galen needed the most help—Rook was set to shelling peas, chopping vegetables, slicing fruit, and mashing potatoes, as well as running in and out of the cellar, keeping the oven hot, filling pies and churning cream, and scrubbing dishes so that they could be used again. Rook only got relief when Elias pulled her over to help him organize all the villagers bringing dishes and food into the inn, helping them unload casks and crocks and platters and trays, pouring barrels of cider into cauldrons over the fireplace, and running to the baker and back through the snow. On her second trip back, Maedran snagged her and the two of them set to work decorating the inn. She helped him hang pine boughs across the lintels and doorways and tie sprigs of holly along the banisters and rails, set candles, tableware, and teapots on each table, and reminded him to eat. The two of them stole snacks out from under Galen’s nose until he finally shooed them, laughing, out of the kitchen.

Once she was no longer being asked to help with any tasks directly, Rook grabbed her coat and a small satchel and told Galen she was going out to gather chestnuts. He waved his thanks, and Rook managed to slip through the organized chaos and out of the inn. Crossing the cow pasture once more, Rook headed northeast into the woods.

The day was bright beneath a ceiling of grey clouds, but the forest felt incredibly still. No wind blew, and sounds seemed more muted than usual, even the crunch of Rook’s boots in the snow. The only birds she heard were far away. It was far easier to navigate in the daylight, however, and Rook kept the direction of the village firmly in mind as she walked. She followed a meandering trail of chestnut trees deep into the woods, her eyes low as she scanned the ground for fallen nuts that had split out of their spiny shells.

“You seem to have a knack for turning up where you are not supposed to.”

Rook jumped as the voice broke the silence, dropping the handful of nuts she was about to put into her bag. She spun and looked around, and saw a figure in a red cloak—the same one from three nights ago. She was sitting on a snowy boulder that may have once been worked stone. Her hood was still up, but in the daylight Rook could make out more of her. She was wearing tight breeches and summer boots despite the cold, and beneath a sleeveless tunic she wore a white shirt unlaced and open at the throat. Locks of fiery red hair curled out from both sides of the hood.

Even with her face in shadow, Rook could feel the cloaked woman’s gaze upon her. “One day this borrowed luck of yours will run out, girl, and then what will you do?”

“I…” Rook straightened and faced the woman, but didn’t back away. “Luck? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

The woman stood. Slipping off her stony seat, she walked towards Rook with slow, careful steps. She was only a little taller than Rook, and as she drew close Rook caught a glimpse of the face under the hood.

Her breath caught. The woman was beautiful. Stunningly, unnaturally beautiful. The irises of her eyes still burned like coals, but their glow was softened by daylight. Her lips were soft and sharp as a rosebush, and her face was perfectly framed by waves of thick, red hair. It was also, Rook noticed, covered in freckles. They seemed oddly ordinary amongst the woman’s features, an almost human touch of unexpected imperfection. Rook held her ground as the woman stopped just a hand’s breadth away. Her burning gaze met Rook’s eyes, then drifted upwards. Raising a delicate hand, the woman reached out and touched Rook’s forehead. Her touch burned against Rook’s cold skin, who jerked in surprise but didn’t draw away. Smiling gently, the woman traced the outline of a kiss just above Rook’s eyebrows.

Rook’s eyes widened in understanding. “Rusalka.”

A tender expression crossed the woman’s face, and her hand dropped to her side. Her smile turned a little sad, and she nodded. She took a step back.

“Thank you for helping me,” Rook blurted. “The other night—I was able to save Kaeli, thanks to you.”

The woman considered her. “I am glad to hear it,” she said at last.

“What…” Rook paused, and swallowed. “What were you doing? Do you live out here?”

Amusement danced in the woman’s eyes. “No, I do not. I come by the old ruins every year or so.” She gave a soft chuckle as Rook looked around them. “No, there is not much left of them now. Only memories.” Her gaze lingered on several pieces of old, weathered stone that Rook now noticed were poking out of the snow here and there, before turning back to Rook. “And you are here gathering chestnuts, it would seem. Would you mind if I walked with you?”

“Oh! Um,” Rook blinked in surprise. “Uh, no, not at all.” She adjusted her satchel a little self-consciously, and the woman fell into step beside her as they started off into the snow. Rook did her best to keep an eye out for clusters of fallen chestnuts, but the tangibly warm presence of the stranger beside her was unhelpfully distracting.

“So what do you do in your village, Rook?” the woman asked, and Rook could hear the smile in her voice as she said the name Rusalka had given Rook half a year ago. “What did you say it was called, Willamett’s End?”

“You don’t know the village?” Rook asked, a little cautiously. “It’s the only one for leagues around.”

“Like I said, I visit rarely.”

“Right.” Rook glanced at the cloaked figure, but nothing about the woman’s demeanor seemed threatening. Besides, she had already helped Rook save Kaeli. How much harm could talking with her be? “Well, I work at the inn a lot. It doesn’t have a name, it’s the only inn.”

“And do you enjoy it?”

“I do,” Rook said, more firmly. “I can make myself useful there. There’s always plenty of hands back at the farm, but at the inn I make a difference. And I can talk to everyone who comes in...but there’s also privacy, if I need to be alone.”

The red hood turned in her direction as she stopped to pick up a chestnut. “You are a loner, then.”

Rook shrugged, and they continued walking. “I mean, I have a lot of brothers.” When the woman didn’t respond, Rook added, more quietly, “I suppose I’ve always been the black sheep of the family.”

“So is that all your ambition?” the cloaked woman asked after a moment. Rook glanced at her, but there were no barbs in her voice, and her half-shadowed face was gentle. She seemed genuinely curious. “Work at the inn? Occasionally run off into the winter night with reckless haste to save young girls from faerie folk?”

Rook blushed. She hadn’t really thought much about her future in the village before. “I suppose I just want to be of help,” she said. “If I’m not helping people, what else am I good for?”

The cloaked woman turned to look at her, and Rook stopped short as she heard the words spoken aloud. She felt her blush deepen, and she looked away. When she looked back, the woman’s burning eyes were strangely soft.

“I think there is far more to you than you know, Rook,” she said.

For the second time while talking with this woman, Rook didn’t know what to say. The stranger in red looked at her for a moment longer, before lifting her head and looking back the way they came. “You will be missed soon,” she said. “But…” Turning back, she gazed at Rook thoughtfully. “If you wish to speak with me again, carry a lit into the woods. Call me three times, and I will come. I should be nearby through the solstice, at the very least.”

Rook looked at her quizzically. “What should I call you?”

The woman smiled. “You may call me...Ember.”

“Ember.” Rook nodded. Ember gestured back the way they had come, and Rook led the way towards Willamett’s End. When she turned back to say farewell, Ember had vanished, and Rook was alone in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do magical ladies keep doing that to rook. just learn how to say goodbye like a normal person, geez


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was setting on the last day of the year when Rook got back to the inn. She dropped off the chestnuts with Galen in the kitchen, hung up her coat to dry, and hurried up to her room to get ready for the festival. She ran into Elias on the stairs.

“Hey, do you have a mirror I can borrow?” she asked him.

“Hm? Oh, yes, it’s in our room next to the washbasin.” He looked her over and smiled. “Getting presentable? Be quick, we’ll be lighting the Midwinter candle soon.”

Rook nodded, and snatched the innkeepers’ small mirror before slipping into her room and shedding her work clothes. She scrubbed herself clean with fresh linen scraps, threw on new underclothes, then pulled out the razor she had bought from the peddler. She exhaled slowly, looking at herself in the mirror with a determined expression. Then she began to cut her hair.

It did not go as well as she had hoped. Cutting off the ponytail she had grown over the last year was simple, but evening out her hair into a short crop turned out to be far more difficult than Rook expected. When she finished, her dark hair was cut down to a choppy, uneven mess that stuck out at odd angles all over her head. She examined her work in the mirror with a sinking heart, but shook her head and tried to breathe confidence back into her face. It would have to do. She quickly put on shirt and trousers, tied her boots, and buttoned up her best woolen vest. She quickly tidied up the room—children who fell asleep before dawn would be taken up to the spare rooms during the night—and walked downstairs.

The normally spacious common room of the inn was packed, both with bodies and tables heavy with food, and the rafters rang with laughter and talk. Cauldrons of hot, mulled cider steamed on the hearth, and Della’s wife Elsa was happily filling a mug for anyone who stopped by. There were baskets full of steamed pork dumplings stuffed with green onions and mushrooms, dishes full of buttered and roasted parsnips, carrots, and peas dressed in sage and gravy, and a pot of green tea on every table. Galen was serving out apple-rosemary mutton stew thick with potatoes, carrots, and winter radishes, with plenty of dark, crusty bread to eat it with. Lining the bar were steaming apple and persimmon pies covered in cold cream, and plates of crumbly ginger cakes. Rook even spotted a tray of grilled river pike over a bed of leeks, crusted with chestnuts and drizzled with an elderberry glaze.

As Rook came down the stairs, Elias and Maedran finished lighting the great candle behind the bar that would burn through the night, welcoming the return of the sun and the lengthening days of a new year. The crowd cheered, and everyone sat to dig into their meals in earnest.

Rook wandered through the room and began filling a plate for herself. She kept one eye out for Alyona as she did, but before she even finished getting food Orna appeared next to her with a hug and a smile. She insisted that Rook come sit with her and several others from Redwheel Farm. Kaeli was there, who gave her a cautious smile and a small wave. Rook smiled and waved back, then noticed that across the table Teron was glaring at her with a stony expression. She nodded cordially at him, and his face darkened. Picking up his plate, he stood and stalked off into the crowd.

“Don’t mind him,” Orna said, and handed her a mug of cider. Rook nodded and started eating with the Redwheel farmers. Each time she finished her plate she tried to get up to look for Alyona again, and each time someone at the table too helpfully offered her more dumplings or a black loaf of bread smeared with cheese or a slice of persimmon pie. She was finally able to slip away by offering to refill Orna and Sindri’s cups for them at the bar.

“Easy there,” Maedran said from Elias’s lap as she filled the mugs with spiced winter ale. He winked. “Isn’t that a little much for a girl your age?”

“Ha ha,” Rook said. She turned to head back to the Redwheel table, and almost ran into Alyona.

“Bridget!” Alyona’s face lit up. She was wearing heavy grey skirts and a matching surcoat. Her dark hair poured down her shoulders, shining in the firelight, the same color as her eyes. She was so beautiful that Rook just stood and looked at her, speechless, until Alyona said, “What did you do to your hair?”

Rook blushed, unconsciously raising a hand to her short, disastrous hair. “I...cut it.” She paused. “Not very well,” she added.

“No, it’s nice,” Alyona said. Rook raised an eyebrow, and Alyona laughed. “I mean, it could be evened up a bit,” she said, touching a particularly ragged patch near Rook’s temple. “But it suits you. Better than long hair does, I think.”

Rook blushed again. “Thanks.”

Alyona smiled, then noticed the pair of ales in Rook’s hand. “Are you those both for you?”

“What? Oh, no, I’m just—hang on.” Rook delivered the drinks to the Redwheel table—Kaeli was gone, but no one seemed to be worried—then she and Alyona found a table with two spare chairs to sit at. Rook got them mugs of cider and a piece of apple pie to share. “Having a good Midwinter?” she asked Alyona.

Alyona gave an unusually shy smile. “It’s better now,” she said, lightly bumping Rook’s shoulder with hers. Then she perked up again and said, “Although did you try that fish, with the nuts and the sauce? It was delicious!”

Rook smirked and utterly failed to keep her chest from puffing up a bit. “That one was my idea.”

Alyona looked at her, eyes narrowed. “That’s what you said about the fish at Midsummer.”

“That one was my idea, too! Both were my ideas!” Rook laughed.

“Impossible. I won’t believe it!”

They collapsed into laughter, earning a few looks from around the table. They were saved from having to explain themselves by the sound of a flute and fiddle tuning together by the hearth. Cheers went up around the room, and everyone immediately started clearing plates and arranging themselves for the singing of carols.

Bright-faced and smiling, Rook and Alyona joined in as a great swell of voices began to sing. The longer ballads wouldn’t be sung till later, towards the deeper hours of the night, but for now winter carols like “Holly’s Luck” and “Winter’s Eve at the Last Home” rang throughout the inn. Rhea, the girl from the orchard who needed a special rolling chair to move about by herself, had just begun to hum the opening melody to “The Snow Elk” when Rook leaned over to Alyona. “Do you want to get some fresh air?” she asked. Alyona nodded. Extracting themselves from the crowd, they grabbed their coats and slipped outside.

The night was startlingly cold outside the inn. An explosion of stars filled the moonless sky above, and the snow around them seemed to glow with its own dim light in the darkness. Rook breathed in the sharp winter air, and offered Alyona her arm. Alyona took it, pressing close to Rook for warmth, and they started slowly walking with their eyes on the stars.

“So…” Rook glanced down at Alyona. “Did you ever find what you were looking for in Crain’s cart?”

Alyona frowned. “No.” She looked at Rook, who was having trouble containing a smile. “What?” she asked.

Rook stopped walking and faced her. Reaching into the inner pocket of her coat, she pulled out the hairbrush. She had wrapped the hair ribbon around the handle, leaving the carved rose on the back visible.

Alyona’s eyes widened. “You got me a Midwinter gift?”

Rook smiled and handed her the hairbrush. Alyona took it, delighted, only to have her face fill with wonder when she saw the rose carved on the back. “Oh Bridget, it’s  _ perfect! _ ” She threw her arms around Rook, laughing. “Thank you!”

Rook hugged her back, pressing her cheek into the top of Alyona’s head. She felt as full of starlight as the sky above them. “You’re welcome,” she said softly.

When Alyona pulled back, she looked shy. “I—I got you something too.” She reached into her coat and pulled out a small object wrapped in a handkerchief.

Rook took it with delicate care, looking back and forth between the gift and Alyona in disbelief. “For me?” she asked. Alyona nodded. Carefully, gently, Rook began to unwrap the handkerchief.

“I made it myself,” Alyona said. “Well, Rilsa helped,” she added, a little self-consciously.

Rook finished unwrapping the gift, and found herself holding a simple, hand-carved wooden smoking pipe. She looked back up at Alyona in shock. “You  _ made _ this? For  _ me? _ ”

Alyona blushed. “I thought...it’d be dashing.”

Rook opened her mouth, then closed it again. She blinked a few times at the pipe. “...I’m so glad I didn’t spend all my money at the peddler’s cart,” she said. “I’ve got to buy some pipeleaf now!”

Alyona laughed and hugged her again. Rook picked her up and spun her in a half-circle, laughing as well.

“Thank you,” she said when they stopped spinning. She pulled away just enough to see Alyona’s face in the starlight. “Thank you so much.”

Alyona looked up at her. Rook could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, their faces inched closer as they stared into each other’s eyes. And then, over what felt like minutes, almost kissing somehow became kissing. They were  _ kissing _ . Alyona’s lips were soft and warm and fit together with Rook’s perfectly. It was new and odd and Rook never wanted to stop. She pulled Alyona closer. It felt like unfolding, like learning and speaking a new language that was entirely their own. It felt like the most honest conversation Rook had ever had.

After so long and not long enough they surfaced, lips separating, foreheads touching, eyes closed. A startled, exhilarated breath escaped Rook’s throat, and they looked at each other. Alyona’s eyes shone with awe and joy in the darkness.

Smiling wordlessly, Rook and Alyona pressed close to each other and began walking back to the warm and welcoming light of the inn, wrapped in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (she rolled a 4 on that check to cut her hair, by the way)


	7. Chapter 7

Rook and Alyona slipped back into the inn, the stunning heat of the inn burning their faces and disguising the flush in their cheeks. They couldn’t keep from looking at each other as they took off their coats, giggling when the bumped hands or elbows and grinning at the sight of each other’s smile. The night was alive with joy and possibility, and Rook couldn’t remember ever being so happy.

“Bridget?”

Rook and Alyona turned to see Kaeli coming up to them, her hands together, worry plain on her face. “Can I talk to you?” she asked, glancing around the crowded room.

Rook glanced at Alyona. “Sure, Kaeli. Come here, we’ll talk just the three of us.” She lead them away from the crowd and up to the top of the stairs, which were dark and quieter than the raucous common room below. Alyona sat on the top step, and Rook kneeled in front of Kaeli on the landing. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Kaeli swallowed. “Last summer...” She started hesitantly, then started talking in a rush. “Last summer Teron told me the story you told  _ him _ about faeries in the woods but stopped talking about it after that, and when I asked him to tell me again he made fun of me and so I went out into the woods to find them and I  _ did _ , only it wasn’t a picnic it was b-bad but you found me and s-saved—” Kaeli stopped and took a breath. Rook and Alyona shared a look, but then Kaeli continued. “And I  _ told _ him what happened but he didn’t believe me, except maybe he did because tonight he asked me where the pond with the fiddling man was, and I told him what I remembered and then he left!”

They were all quiet for a moment. Then Rook whispered, “ _ Shit. _ ”

Alyona looked worried. “Bridget, you don’t think he—”

“Will you—” Kaeli said at the same time.

Rook put a hand on Kaeli’s shoulder, and smiled with as much confidence as she could muster. “We’ll find him,” she said. “Don’t you worry.”

Relief flooded Kaeli’s face. “Thank you,” she said, and ran back downstairs.

“Teron’s gone looking for the Nøkken?” Alyona said once she was gone. “What do we do?”

Rook ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know Teron remembered me talking about that night. He’s never mentioned it.” She glanced back at Alyona, who was looking at her with an expression of fear and determination. “I think…” she sighed. “I think we ask for help.”

Alyona nodded, and Rook lead the way back down the stairs and over to the bar. “Maedran?” Rook called over the noise. “Maedran, I need to talk to you.”

Maedran looked up from where he and Elias were sitting. Giving his husband a kiss on the cheek, he walked over to the two of them. “Bridget? Alyona? What’s the matter?”

“In the kitchen,” Rook said. Maedran nodded, and the three of them ducked into the kitchen. The cookfire had burned low, and the scullery was overflowing with dishes, but it was empty. 

“What’s wrong?” Maedran asked.

“Teron’s gone into the woods,” Rook explained. 

“Alone,” Alyona added.

“Alone. We think he’s looking for the faerie I told you about.”

Maedran adjusted his spectacles. “Oh dear, that is bad. Whatever for?”

Rook just shook her head.

“Hm.” Maedran considered this. “Have you talked to Tala about this yet?” he asked Rook.

Rook looked down. “She’s been up at Birchbark Farm for a few days, I haven’t really had the chance,” she muttered.

“Ah, right. A bit far off to be helpful, then. You’ll have to fetch Kajsa and Teisen.”

“The witch?” Alyona blurted, then put a hand over her mouth.

“Kind of,” Maedran said cheerfully. “You know where to find her? Good. Go on ahead. I’ll let Elias know what has happened, and Orna, and probably Jehan, too.”

“Right.” Rook nodded and grabbed her coat. Alyona was right behind her.

Teisen lived with Kajsa, the village huntress, far from everyone on the edge of the woods. The path up to their cottage from the mill was so threadbare that they couldn’t find any sign of it under the snow, and they had to make the long climb up the hill blazing their own trail and stumbling on hidden rocks. The cottage was small, and it only took a few knocks before the door swung open.

Kajsa was tall, taller than Rook by a good head and a half, taller even than Merra the sellsword. Her hair was pulled back, and even in her winter clothing Rook could tell she was heavily muscled. She looked at Rook and Alyona for a moment, then wordlessly bid them to follow her inside.

The remains of a meal sat on a rough-hewn table in the center of a room crowded with herbs, tools, jars, and books. A Midwinter candle burned over the fireplace. Sitting at the table was Teisen, who watched them seriously as they stomped the snow off their boots and stepped inside. Rook hadn’t seen Teisen since nearly a year ago, when she gave Rook her true name. She was probably younger than Rook’s mother, but there was something about her eyes that made her seem much older. Rook could feel those eyes on her now, and she had the uncanny feeling that Teisen knew why they were here.

“Something has happened,” Teisen said.

Alyona looked at Rook, as did Kajsa. Rook took a deep breath, and told them the shortest version of the story as quickly as she could—how Teron had mocked Kaeli for her interest in faerie stories enough to spur her into the woods, that Rook had saved Kaeli from the Nøkken a few nights ago, and that Teron had pressured Kaeli into telling him the location of Nøkken’s pool and had now gone into the woods himself.

The two older women listened to her speak with deadly seriousness, and she had hardly finished speaking before Kajsa had thrown on her cloak and belted on her long hunting knife. “Take me there,” she said, striding to the door.

Teisen struggled to her one good leg, and with the help of her cane she followed after her wife. “Be careful,” she said, laying a hand on Kajsa’s arm.

Alyona slipped her hand into Rook’s. “I’m coming too,” she said. Rook smiled and squeezed her hand.

Kajsa moved swiftly through the frozen night and into the woods, and Rook and Alyona had to hurry to keep pace with her. Once they were well past the cow trails and into deeper reaches of the forest, Kajsa turned to Rook. “Where is it?”

Rook pointed as best she could guess. “There’s a tall cliffside somewhere east of Redwheel Farm, the waterfall goes over it and into Nøkken’s pool. The pool turns into a stream that ends up somewhere north, northwest of the inn.” 

Kajsa nodded and took off without a word, leaving Rook and Alyona scrambling after her. Hearts pounding in their ears, they ran through the dark woods, feet crashing through the snow and twisting on roots and hidden stones, breath steaming in the frigid winter air.

They heard the waterfall before they saw it, and Kajsa broke out into a sprint. The three of them burst from the treeline and onto the shores of the pool. The waterfall was a roaring void in the moonless night, and the pool was filled with ink. Nøkken was nowhere to be seen, but a figure lay collapsed on the shoreline, halfway lying in the freezing water. It was Teron.

Kajsa gave a shout and ran to him, dragging him away from the water and looking him over. Rook and Alyona rushed to help. He was shivering and soaking wet, his clothes starting to freeze solid in the winter air. He barely responded to Kajsa’s questions, but as soon as his unfocused eyes landed on Rook he let out a gasp and grabbed hold of her.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice barely making it past his pale lips. “I’m sorry, Bridget. I’m so sorry.”

Rook froze. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice hard and low.

Kajsa shot Rook a sharp look, but Teron was speaking in a rush, shaking harder with each moment. “He was so angry. I thought I could make a deal, learn to play like he can. I thought—" His eyes darted to Alyona, then shamefully flickered back to Rook. "But he was so angry with you. For beating him, for saving Kaeli. He said he wanted to make you pay himself.”

“Teron,” Rook nearly shouted. “What did you  _ do? _ ”

Teron swallowed hard. “I told him your name.”

Rook stumbled back as if she had been physically struck. Kajsa glanced at her once under furrowed brows before turning to tend the freezing boy. Alyona moved to Rook’s side and placed a hand on her arm.

“That—that’s okay, right? It’s not my true name. He can’t know that, right?” Rook was breathing heavily, looking wildly around the woods. “What can he do?”

“Help me build a stretcher,” Kajsa barked. Rook and Alyona jumped, and hurried to follow Kajsa’s instructions while the huntress stripped Teron of his wet clothes. "Give me your coat," she ordered Rook, who did as she was told. In just her shirt and jerkin, the cold was a shock. In a few minutes they had turned the Kajsa's cloak into a makeshift carrier, where Teron lay nearly naked under Rook's coat. And then they were moving, through the midnight forest and back towards the village, leaving Nøkken’s pool behind.

The trip back was terrible. Kajsa took the front of the stretcher and led the way, while Rook and Alyona shared the back end between them. Kajsa pushed them at nearly a run, breaking a path through the snow that Rook and Alyona stumbled and tripped through as they followed. Unseen roots and branches grabbed at them. Teron grew heavier as they went, and even with their muscles burning the cold seemed to burrow its way deep beneath their clothes and under their skin. Rook started shivering, then shaking.

After too long they emerged from the woods near Teisen’s cottage. Waiting with her near the forest’s edge were Elias, Maedran, and Jehan, as well as Orna and Tala. Next to Jehan was a small cart hitched to one of Crain’s horses. Maedran gave a call when he saw them approaching, and the three men and Orna rushed forward to help get Teron into the cart. Taking the reins, Jehan started leading it down to his apothecary, Orna looking after her son.

Rook glanced back at the cottage, where she saw Kajsa talking with Teisen and Tala. Kajsa said something Rook couldn’t hear, and all three of them turned to look at her. Judging by their faces, it was clear to Rook that Kajsa had told them what Teron had said back in the woods.

Tala walked forward. The priestess was tall and grey, her eyes piercing, her back straight despite her age. “Bridget. Alyona. Come inside and speak with us.”

Alyona looked at Rook, who swallowed and looked to Elias and Maedran. Elias smiled and gave her his coat. “We’ll be just down the road. Hurry back to the inn when you’re done. The rooms may be full, but I’ll set up a cot by the kitchen hearth. You’ve earned some warmth, and some rest.”

Rook took the coat and nodded. She and Alyona followed Tala, Teisen, and Kajsa back inside. Rook was still shaking with cold, and as they all sat down at Teisen’s table Kajsa began making a fresh pot of tea.

"Bridget," Tala said. "Tell me what happened."

Beneath the table, Alyona slipped her warm hand into Rook's cold one and gave it a squeeze. Rook sighed, took a deep breath, and began.

She told them everything that happened on Midsummer's Eve—meeting Rusalka, besting the Nøkken, recovering Rusalka's heart and saving Teron and Alyona. She told them about meeting Nøkken again when she pulled saved Kaeli, and that he had recognized her. She told them about the waterfall, and what Teron had said when they found him. She told them everything except Ember. Rook was fairly sure she knew what Tala and Teisen would think of her accepting Ember's help, but she wasn't the reason Rook was in danger. Without Ember, Kaeli would have drowned in Nøkken's pool. She felt a twinge of guilt about it, but Rook didn't mention either of her encounters with the strange woman in the red cloak.

As it was, when she finished talking both Tala and Teisen looked deeply concerned. Neither looked angry, although they clearly weren't happy with the situation, or with her.

"Are you certain that Teron did not give the creature your true name?" Teisen asked.

"Absolutely certain," Rook said. "I haven't told it to anyone. Is that enough? What does that mean?"

Teisen sighed and sat back in her chair. "It means that my foresight proved itself when I chose you, out of all the children in Willamett's End, to give a name." 

“You knew this was going to happen?”

“Of course not. There were signs, warnings, which I did not know I had interpreted correctly until tonight.” She snuck a satisfied glance at Tala, who looked away. Teisen turned back to Rook, expression serious once more. "It is good that you have not shared your true name. Keep it secret, and you are safe. Without it, the creature has no power over you."

Relief flooded through Rook. She let out a shaky breath, and Alyona squeezed her hand under the table. They shared a smile.

Tala was not smiling. "It would still be wise to be cautious," she said, looking down at Rook. "Come to me tomorrow, and I will begin teaching you how to ask for the gods' protection. It will take time, and a good deal of effort on your part. I hope it will be enough."

Rook promised she would, and she and Alyona were sent home. It was still dark outside. Rather than heading home to the mill, Alyona followed Rook back to the inn, which had settled down into a quiet hum of activity in the common room. Rook let them in through the kitchen, and sure enough a small nest of blankets and mats had been laid by the cooking hearth. The warmth of the stones soaked into them, and as Rook and Alyona nestled under the covers it slowly chased away the chill that had settled into their bones during their flight through the woods. Rook held Alyona in her arms, eyes closed, her chin resting on the crown of Alyona’s dark brown hair. Alyona’s eyes closed as she rested her cheek against Rook’s chest.

They dozed for a while on the hard stone. Slowly, inch by inch, the cold light before sunrise began to creep into the kitchen. Their bodies fit together perfectly, soft and inseparable. As the room lightened Rook opened her eyes, a clarity coming over her with the promise of dawn. There, holding Alyona in the light of a new year, Rook whispered her true name.

Alyona caught her breath, then slowly raised her head. “What did you say?”

Rook smiled. “My true name.”

Alyona looked at her in shock and wonder. Hesitating at first, and then whispering in a voice so quiet Rook could barely hear her, Alyona said her name.

Rook felt it. It thrummed through her, like her whole body was a fiddle string that had just been plucked. She felt it in every ounce, every inch of her, responding to the call that came from Alyona’s lips. She was seen, in her entirety, boundless and personal, laid bare by the name as Alyona said it. Rook could feel herself, everything she was, everything she had ever been and everything she ever  _ could  _ be echoing through those syllables, through Alyona’s voice. The sensation shook her down to her core, and as it passed she let out a gasp. Alyona’s face furrowed instantly in concern, and she placed a hand on Rook’s cheek, her eyes worried. Rook just stared, wide-eyed, and felt tears fall down her cheeks.

“I love you,” she said.

Alyona blinked, her brown eyes confused for half a second before filling with warmth. She leaned in and kissed Rook’s lips before settling back into her arms and laying her head on Rook’s chest.

They fell asleep as the sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Part 2. Everything's in place for the final act...thank you for reading so far!


End file.
